


Life and other problematic choices

by Srututu_Banana



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Relationship, Singing, Summer Vacation, Temporary Character Death, early relation, everybody is young and dumb but sometimes just dumb and old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srututu_Banana/pseuds/Srututu_Banana
Summary: Finland-centric one-shots with some interpretation of Finnish mythology, folklore and a solid addition of headcanons. Not always a serious approach to the matters of life, death, nature of the nation and men.





	1. Backstage conversation I

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Arreloi for her great help with making this text readible.

This is more a state of mind than a place but a few things can be said for sure. The first one being the fact that, quite undoubtedly, there is a river. The mist lays upon the waves, the dark water moves lazily from wherever it comes to wherever it goes. Another fact which can’t be denied is actually the presence of somebody; this somebody being a light-haired, grumpy-looking lady leaning on the side of a small, wooden boat. Her arms are crossed.  
  
“I knew you would come today,’’ she says with absolutely no hesitance. Her voice sounds a little bit hoarse as if she hasn’t used it for a far too long time.  
  
“You always say that,’’ replies the man who just a second or two seconds ago wasn’t even there. His face deadly pale, his eyes dull, his chest stained red. He looks as if something bad has just happened to him and he would not get better anytime soon. Not ever, in fact, judging by the hole in his chest. People with such injuries don’t just drink some cough syrup and walk away. Oh no, this guy is dead, definitely and absolutely.  
  
‘’And I’m always right.’’ She doesn’t exactly look at him, her eyes are fixed on the blood dripping on the ground. “Don’t be so dramatic. You had it worse.” Maybe not many people come these days to the silent banks of the River of Tuoni but the ferrywoman will certainly not allow her workplace getting all messy that easily.  
  
He smiles, the smile of the dead man should be more disturbing but somehow it isn’t. He smiles like all of it is not a big deal. At all.  
  
“I guess you’re right,” he admits and then he just… flickers. There is a small moment of uncertainty as if the universe got hiccup. A second later the hole in the man’s chest disappears as well as blood. The women nods satisfied, she reaches inside the boat for a book.  
  
“No clothes washing this time?” asks the dead man, sitting on the stony bank. He looks into milky mist and up into the non-visible, not-entirely-there sky.  
  
“No need for it. I can do it if you ever die for real, not wasting my time without a reason.” She opens the book but probably not for reading as she keeps on talking. The man thinks she can’t be blamed as she must be bored beyond belief. “I promise, if you will ever manage this: I will greet you properly, take you through the river on my boat and leave on the other side, thankful that all of it is finally over. But not today.” To emphasize she points a finger at him. He doesn’t seem to mind. This is an old game they play to make the waiting more bearable. He supposes she enjoys it in some way as from time to time she glances at him checking what impact her words have on him.  
  
“Yeah, I remember, I think I will get it right one day. This whole staying dead, I mean.” He smiles again as if he said a good joke.  
  
“I don’t think so,” the ferrywoman says with bored certainty. She remembers how it was at the beginning when everything was young and the spirits of the land weren’t such rarity. The old believes were very much alive and the Death’s maid had much work to do as the dead were coming to cross the river and go further into the calm land of Tuonela.  
  
Then this kid happened: the young guardian spirit born out of some sense of community. The union of people and land personified, embodied in the child’s body. He was certainly dead when he was taken on the boat. No breath, no pulse, no warmth. They were half-way to the other side of the river when the child suddenly became very much alive and disappeared. All the effort and work for nothing. The living were not allowed in the land of the dead.  
  
It happened twice and the ferrywoman decided it wouldn’t happen in the future. Not on her watch.  
  
He died and came many times since then. He changed his names, he grew, he never was entirely the same every time he appeared. But that was just his nature. The people changed, the land changed with them. She, on the other hand, was the Death’s maid, the ferrywoman, the guide to the other side, the stable one. She spend years and years waiting for the souls of the dead and helping them to cross the water. As the ancient believes were disappearing, less and less people were coming here. Her existence was reduced to pointless waiting.  
  
But from time to time he was back there. Sometimes the woman was wondering if he knew that his visits became the only moments when she could really feel and see how people have changed within these years. She could do it solely by looking at him, his entire presence reflecting the current moment.  
  
She wonders if he knows all of it. There is a chance. It is so, so easy to forget that even this form of him she sees is another mask he puts on and never dares to take off in her presence. She keeps forgetting about it when he bubbles, smiles, even stutters sometimes. She doesn’t understand it as she is always herself, nothing less, nothing more. She doesn’t hide her nature.  
  
So, today, today he’s a young man and has two names: Suomi and Finland. If nothing has changed since the last time they have seen each other. But she doesn’t really need to know these names, there is no other who she could mistake him with right now.  
  
“We made a bet on it.” His words bring her back to the present. He looks at her, his eyes still dull and foggy. He has a boring face, she thinks. Easy to omit. No dashing beauty as well as no striking ugliness. But his eyes, his eyes are violet and she thinks that makes no sense if somebody wants to blend in. He tries to say something more but she interrupts him with another question because their time is running out and she is absolutely aware of it.  
  
“What was it this time? Have somebody stabbed you with a shovel?”  
  
He finds it funny and it still amuses her from time to time.  
  
“I had an accident, I suppose. I don’t remember that well, I will have to ask somebody when I come back. It is always so… well, I think answering the questions is the worst part.” He doesn’t say that but if she was to guess, she would say that he is not a clever liar. “I will have to explain it somehow, usually something about looking worse than it actually was does the trick.” He sounds concern right now.  
  
“I remember when you broke your neck stepping on a potato peel.”  
  
“Well, I remember it too. Partially, at least.” He doesn’t seem very moved by it. She is not sure if he is the same person when he is alive. The body does make the difference. It gives a certain perspective. But the ferrywoman of the River of Tuoni will never know the other one. The one who breaths and walks the earth not aware of their meetings between life and death. He doesn’t remember many things when he’s alive, he said one day. And it is nothing unusual, really, she can’t blame him. That’s also the matter of the perspective and the eyes you decide to look through.  
  
He waits in silence, spirits know for what.  
  
“Everything changes faster right now,” he finally begins the part she was waiting for. She never asks for it but there is the silent agreement between them, the unspoken pact. Death doesn’t change but the Life… Life changes all the time and the ferrywoman wants to know it all. “I don’t mean that’s bad or something. It really isn’t but I… I just don’t know where to begin…”  
  
“Begin where you finished,” she responses, the book in her hand long forgotten.  
  
“Seventeen years ago or something?”  
  
“I think it was sixteen years two months and twelve days ago. Impressively long, as for you, of course.” She knows how much time has passed for sure, she doesn’t have to even think about it. She knows the exact day everybody comes to her. Even if it’s more than once.  
  
So he speaks and he does put his heart in the story. There’ve been many better tale-tellers than him, certainly, he tends to correct himself often. Sometimes he picks up too many plots at the same time, half of them get lost in the process. And, as he speaks, the colors come back on his face – his skin is no longer pale-white. Light appears in his eyes. There is no much time left. The ferrywoman wants to point it out but somehow he is faster.  
  
“Oh,” he says suddenly like he wasn’t expecting it this time. Maybe he has just felt his blood warming up again, “I’m sorry, I think I might be going…”  
  
“Go, I can’t hear anything over the beat of your heart.” Possibly she didn’t want it to sound so harsh but it just turned out like that. He shouldn’t pay too much attention to it, she thinks, he knows how she is.  
  
The water flows in Tuoni, the mist silently moves above it. The woman waits, gazes at the river, sees the swan emerging from the milky, wet air and she wonders if maybe her guest will die irrevocably one day as he claims it. And if he would be the last person she would lead to the land of Dead behind the cold, dark water.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, she muses, maybe it is the only reason she still has to wait.

  



	2. The matter of the name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finland on his names and early stage relation with Sweden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm using some specific names for the characters so I think I should explain some of them early on. This chapter is wrtitten from the perspective of really young, pre-Christian and pre-Swedish Finland and because of that I use the Finnish names.  
> Suomi is naturally Finland and Ruotsi is Sweden.  
> And of course Sverige is Swedish for Sweden.  
> I think that's all You need to know before reading it. Have fun!

He has a few names, it happens when you manage to live long enough.

Toivo is his human name, he has given it to himself and he could give it away as he pleased. It is not that important, although it carries the weight of the person he appears to be. Being among people is so much easier when he can think of himself as of just another Toivo in the long line of other Toivos who have walked the earth till this moment and will appear in the years following.

Suomi is his proper name which he doesn’t share with everybody. This name is a gift and also the treasured one. It comes from the people and sings in his ears every time he hears it. Years ago, when he was younger, younger than he even is now, he didn’t address himself with any name. He didn’t need it or at least it was what he thought in these times. But it was so long ago when he was still not that familiar with the warmth of his own blood and breath. Now “Suomi” is the name he recognizes himself under even in his mind.

When he meets Ruotsi he gives him his both names because he is a young boy called Toivo but also something else. Although he reveals how he’s called, he never tells about his birth or origin. At least, there is a certain amount of power over him Ruotsi shall not be given.

But, as Suomi discovers, what he says or what he doesn’t say, does not really matter because Sweden has his own words and own names. And he gets it all as wrong as it could be while somehow still managing to seem offended by his Finnish name.  
“Ruotsi sounds nothing like Sverige,” he says frowning. This is the time when they don’t encounter each other that often as the world is vast and unknown so Toivo doesn’t mind what the other one thinks of him. Not yet, at least.  
“Well, yeah, probably, but you look more like Ruotsi.” It’s said like it’s the most natural response in the world and Sweden, who has never been good with words, does not find anything to say in return. He just stares and maybe Toivo should pay more attention to it but he doesn’t.

After all, he has forest to wander, shores to travel, people to visit and the forests are deep, the shores breathtaking and the people intriguing. And the world sings as Suomi walks and listens.  
  
***  
“…and Christ will save your soul,” Sweden explains solemnly, there is something almost desperate in his tone or maybe Toivo just imagines it. He can never be sure with Sweden.  
“Which one?” he asks to clarify because he’s a Finn and this is a valid problem for him.  
“Your own.” The answer is delivered after a while as Sweden does not really understand the problem.  
“Yeah, but which one of my own?” Finn is quicker with words and speaks with an ease the Swede will never experience. And that bothers him deeply as he has so much to communicate, and he would do it, he certainly would if he only could find the right phrases at the moment. But instead he just mutters:  
“…more?”  
“Of course!” Toivo exclaims with a bright enthusiasm, his eyes almost sparkling. “ _Henki_ is what makes blood worm and makes you breath and _luonto_ is…” he puts three of his right hand’s fingers up as he begins to explain the whole problem but the Swede carefully bends down two out of these three fingers.  
“Just one. And the one God.”  
There is some concern in the Finn’s eyes when he looks at his hand and back on the other’s face.  
“Easier to remember, I guess,’’ he finally says smiling briefly to bring the end to this discussion. He knows for sure that he has more souls than one and there are more gods than the One. But now he doesn’t say it and lets it all go. After all, Sweden will probably just forget about all of it in a while. Maybe till their next encounter, spirits know when and where.  
  
Maybe if the Finn would know his neighbor better he would predict that for him it was not that easy to forget. Years later he will know that sometimes Sweden just gets stuck on one thing and cannot let it go no matter what.

  
***  


The times change. Swedes bring crosses and fire and all he does is in the name of the new God. Suomi is not exactly happy about it and he tries to help himself with magic. He curses Sweden: he lets the raw feelings spring from his soul, flow through him while he speaks the words he cannot truly remember afterwards.

If there was any effect – it wasn’t just strong enough. Or maybe, Toivo thinks, maybe the other God was more powerful. He learns it the hard way and as he lies on the ground, looking up at the Swede whose face says exactly and perfectly nothing, after another exhausting fight he has just lost.

Sky is high and clear, the song of the land echoes in his ears as Toivo tastes copper blood in his mouth feeling pain burning in his body and for the first time he wonders if he could actually be mortal.  
***  
One day after that the water of baptism washes over him and Toivo becomes Timotheus but it sounds so unfamiliar to him that soon he ends up with just Timo. Years later he thinks that maybe there was something symptomatic in this actions as ‘’theos’’ is Greek for God and pagan at heart Timo quickly got rid of it.

He gets a new name from Sweden – Österland. New names, new religion, new language, new king, new city, new cathedral, new everything. But the land is still vast, the forest as deep as ever, the sea cruel and unpredictable, the Swedish capital far away so Toivo thinks that he surely can wear these freshly given names like a mask. To the core he is sure that they would not change his nature. His spirit will remain the same regardless the circumstances.

When he looks back into all his thoughts and hopes years later he knows how wrong he was. So, so wrong.  
It amazes him in some way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less mythology in this chapter but it will change with the next one.  
> Long time ago I've made some decisions regarding human names Finland uses. The thing is that Tino is usually shorter for Valentino and I didn't really believe it would be the best choice for some historical stuff as generally this name is not Finnish and Finland wasn't that international back in the days. Of course now Finland could use this name and it would not be that unusuall, I guess. However I decided to use the name "Timo" as it is quite a popular Finnish name. But another problem with it is that it is... well, certainly Christian so doesn't really suit Finland before the conversion on this religion. Because of this I've decided that "Toivo" would be better for the earliest times.


	3. On known and unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finland through the eyes of young Sweden. Everybody is teen and stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this part. I needed to look at Finland from a different point of view. I think he and Sweden are still very young. Most of this happens shortly after Finland became part of Sweden.  
> Apparently, Finns were usually connected with singing and magic, sometimes both at the same time.  
> I use name Bernhard for Sweden.  
> Enjoy!

Sweden sees Finland as a strange mixture of the unpredictable forces of nature and random clumsiness, in varying proportions.  
Finn is quick to speak and quick to smile and quick to joke and he seems so harmless as it is physically possible. At first, when they met, Sweden couldn't actually believe that this is Finland. After all, he was hearing stories of these stubborn, gloomy people who could sing you into a swamp when angry. He was not prepared for a person who loses the track of the conversation one time after another.  
Then Sweden had a knife held to his neck. Once or twice. Maybe this number was different but he won't admit that. It was during the crusades on the Finnish folk and he wasn't on exactly good terms with Toivo which the other one vigorously presented. But they got better, eventually. At least that was what Bernhard thought.  
So again, he sees Finland as the result of marriage between the unpredictable forces of nature and random clumsiness. And he desires to tame it. 

Timo sings to himself. He does it a lot, especially while doing something repetitive. Sweden often wonders if the other one just tries to make himself even more busy by singing.  
This is also one of the things that Timo does enthusiastically but Bernhard avoids at any cost. Even at the church during the service he sometimes moves his mouth without any sound or with just barely audible murmur.  
Singing sounds harmless enough and Finland seems to enjoy it. From time to time he must be making some mistakes because he immediately corrects himself and goes on. However, Sweden can only guess as he has clearly no idea what the song is actually about. And that bothers him deeply. He does not speak Finnish and as far as he is concerned Finland would, as well, just be putting some bad courses on Bernhard. He would not be able to do anything about it. That makes the fear sparkle in his chest.  
Sweden is visiting Finland in his cabin in ¬Åbo. He thinks that the best part of it are the moments when the Finn forgets that Bernhard is even there: he behaves less nervously. Back in the capital the Swede thought that it would be a good idea to persuade his... province, to come to the court. Timo greeted him with politeness, as there was truly no other way. But that was it, all of it. Truth to be told, Bernhard had prepared some arguments, some encouraging words to make the Finn leave with him but in the end all he said was something along the lines: “You will come with me.” Not really, a subtle thing. Timo only looked at him and nodded. His eyes were like the lake which reflects the sky but does not show what's hidden beneath the surface.  
Bernhard follows the voice and the song. Timo is cutting the wood in the back of the buiding. The air smells like sawdust and resin. Sweden notices the bright spot somewhere on the log – that's the shirt the Finn took off. He's sweaty, skinny and covered in wooden dust but he is still singing quite melodically. The melody itself simple, the sad tones are waved into it carefully and yet naturally.  
It must be some sort of a charm. There is no doubt about it. Maybe the rain of iron does not come from the sky and pillars of the earth does not shutter but there is no way an innocent song would make Sweden feel the way he feels.  
The meaning of the words remains unknown but they rumble in his guts. A cold grip of merciless anxiety closes on his heart.  
Sweden believes Finland doesn't necessarily do it on purpose. He probably has never known the other way.  
When the Swede approaches the other one, there is a part of Berhnard which does not want Timo to notice him. The Finn looks so at ease right now. But there is also the other part which is aware how long it takes to grow the chopped off fingers back. And yet there is another, most significant part of all of them: the one the ultimate goal of which is to speak as little as it is possible. The last part always wins.  
However, Benhards makes sure that the Finn does not hold an axe in his hands when he finally says:  
  
“You should stop.”  
  
Timo doesn't meet the Swede's eyes as he falls silent. The eerie veil of the song fades into the air. Singing in his native language makes the Finn a person Bernhard doesn't know but this impression disappears now.  
  
“It's a religious one,” he says and Sweden tries to read truth from his face and posture. “Really, not about devils. Or something.”  
  
Bernhard sights. His face looks like if he was about to commit a brutal murder. In fact he just doesn't know what to say. Timo should know that it is all for his own good and well-being. Nobody wants to be sent to hell, after all. The pit of darkness and fire does not seem to be a great place for the eternal life.  
  
“Sing in Swedish.”  
  
Timo opens his mouth as if he was up to say something but finally he shuts them up without a single word. He takes a few steps and brings a long branch that must have been chopped of some time ago as the needles have become dry and brittle.  
And as Finland cuts the branch into little pieces, he begins to sing in Swedish. The words are simple, the understanding of them strips them out of the mystery. There is nothing unpredictable or eerie about the Finn right now. Almost.  
Sweden is calm again when Timo stops suddenly in the middle of the song, eyes locked on the trees, lips smiling, teeth showing. The echo quickly dies in the background loosing the source that brought it to life in the first place.  
  
“Do you hear it?'' Timo says and once again Sweden thinks how bizarre his eye colour is. “The whole world's singing.”  
  
Bernhard does listen and looks at the Finn wondering if maybe some remains of the charm are still chattering in the air because there is still something he does not fully understand. And he fears it is within him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the feeling is one-sided at the moment. Oh well.  
> I really want to show how the character of Finland was changing throught the years, basically he had his ups and downs of self-confidence. Being deprived of independency changes the person. Also, I didn't want to show Sweden as some sort of pure evil or sth. He does what he belives is the best, he's confused and awkward. He has a lots of to learn. As well as Fin at this point.


	4. The guarding spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long night when Finland is left alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action takes place years later after the previous one.   
> The place is different, the point of view is different and the times have changed. Enjoy!

Finland has blood on his hands, his clothes and some even on his face. Sweden is lying on the ground perfectly dead. Yet, it isn’t the best day of all. Not exactly. Even if there was the time when Timo would be glad with that turn of events. Now he is certainly not.   
The place is dark and smells of blood, sweat and rot. However, Finland doesn’t feel it anymore. When he came here he brought the blood and the sweat with him, both smells sharp and unbearable at that point. The shack is small, with no windows, with no floor – just bare ground. Somebody must have left this place long time ago and the smell which Finland doesn’t bring with himself is the one of the rotting wood. He didn’t notice it at first, he was too busy carrying Sweden’s body. At this point Bernhard wasn’t dead, not yet, but he was probably already waiting for saint Peter to welcome him in the afterlife. His breath was so weak that Timo had to put his own face right to the Sweden’s mouth to feel him breathing on his cheek.   
Now even that is gone.   
Unconscious or not, Sweden was some sort of familiar presence. Without him Finland is alone in a very specific kind of way. He - the warm, living person with the other’s cold, lifeless body and the secret of death separating them both.   
The door of the shack is gone so Finland has replaced it partially with the remains of a bench he had found inside. They are not impressive but they provide some illusion of separation from the outside which Timo desperately needs right now. He is sitting on the ground, facing the provisory door he made, hearing the murmur of the rain in the trees and the dripping of water in this one particular spot where the roof is not hermetic anymore.   
It’s pitch black. He knows where the door is only because he can hear the rain and because he hasn’t moved since it has gotten dark. The clouds must be covering the moon so well that not a single stream of the silver light would come through them. And even if it could, the forest would be another obstacle on the way down to the earth.   
Timo thinks he could be just a pair of blind eyes hovering in the darkness. No body, just the eyes and the sole consciousness. Except that he feels the dull pain of the muscles so he must have some. His left arm is itching so he also has to have it. He feels nuisances from hunger so he certainly must have a stomach. His hand is hurting from holding his knife too hard so he’s quite sure he probably has also a hand, at least one of them.   
As the fear and the anxiety are slowly leaving him, he begins to feel empty and exhausted. Behind him, lying on his blood-soaked coat, Sweden remains dead.   
Finland misses the exact moment when he falls asleep.

He has a dream that the enemy appeared banging at the door (it existed in this reality) because they spotted the grey smoke coming out of the chimney. Timo wakes up, his heart racing. There is a stone fireplace in the shack but it remains cold and as soon as Finland remember it, he feels a wave of relief washing over him. He realizes he doesn’t hold a knife anymore and seeks it blindly with his fingers touching the ground. It takes him decades or, at least, it is what it feels like. Eventually he finds his precious treasure and closes his fingers on the handle.   
He listens for a while trying not to breath but he doesn’t hear anybody’s else breathing. He realizes thought, that the rain has stopped. Slowly, feeling his whole body rapidly protesting, he stands up and looks back at the place where Sweden’s form lies motionlessly on the ground. Some of the greyish light enters the shack through the cracks in the roof. Timo makes a few steps, just to be sure. Bernhard’s face looks like a mask of wax and the Finn doesn’t exactly enjoy the view. He feels angry and miserable that it all has ended up this way. It is the best moment to have these feelings – under the dark cloak of the night when there is no living soul able to see him.   
But this also means he is left alone with his thoughts.   
He almost-almost touches the dead man’s scalp. As no other person saw it, this moment of hesitation may have not even happened at all. Instead, he says a quick, messy prayer in favour of the other’s soul.   
Still half-asleep he muses how funny it is that now he is as willing to fight alongside Bernhard in a foreign land and afterwards bring his heavily-wounded body here, as he was willing to put a knife in Sweden’s heart centuries ago.  
Timo comes back to his previous spot on the ground, sits again to face the door, armed and vigilant.

Every vigilance has its limits.   
He wakes up one more time to see the golden coloured mist laying upon the fern, the wet leaves glittering in the morning light. Timo is looking at it, suddenly moved by something he cannot recognize at the moment but he is quite sure he should. He thinks for the moment that maybe someone else’s breath has became audible during these hours but no. There must be something different then.   
He gets up, feeling like if he is the one personally rising from his grave. He would love just to take his white towel and go to a sauna but it is not an option at the moment. And probably won’t be in the upcoming future. After... after Bernhard gets better, they will have to find the others while avoiding getting stubbed by a pitchforks of the angry locals. They, the Swedes, are not exactly welcomed here after all. No wonder, they may have... burned something, injured somebody, left some women widowed, it happens on the war.   
Timo checks on Bernhard again but mostly _pro forma_. The blood is dry and brown. There is so much of it. There was, Finland corrects himself in his head, because at this point, he thinks it already belongs to the past and doesn’t matter anymore. The line has been crossed.   
He needs to take a leak so he removes the remains of the branch which were acting as a peculiar door-replacement and walks out.   
He takes care of his blister and feels less like something that has been chewed on by a dog for the whole night. He licks the wet leaves to get some water for his dry mouth. He has something to drink in his container but he wants to save it for later. Then he notices round shapes of berries and picks some of them up. He eats them and tastes sweet-sour flavour with a hint of iron from his dried, cracked lips.   
He does it all, happy to be busy because when he has something to do the night fears are getting further and further and also he doesn’t fully embrace how damn worried he is. Worried about Sweden, worried about being found by the enemy, worried about being lost in the unknown land.   
There is also a tiny, tiny thought, growing within him from some time. The one which makes him think of the old days and ancient words and other things he should not speak about. Bears’ skulls on the trees, sacrifices for the spirits of the animals, words of power... It is stupid because Timo actually has never brought anybody back to life, even as Toivo, and there was still time for Sweden to come back but Finland still DOES know and remember some, let’s say, theory. These things are hard to forget, they have a life on their own, they leave a long shadow on the memory.   
This is not the first time it happens. When Timo sees Bernhard struck by the knife, sword, bayonet there appears a thought that Finland knows the origin of iron and maybe he would undo the cut- But he never lets himself succumb to this thought. He will not come back to this way. It leads nowhere but to the void, as he believes now.   
Suddenly, as if an invisible curtain has been unveiled, Finland realises what has been bothering him since he woke up. The song of the land bursts around him. All of the sudden he hears it everywhere. In the air, coming from the trees, from the ground, from the water shining on the leaves. It is overwhelming and Finland feels absolute and endless terror because he is not at home. Not even slightly. He is as far from home as he can possibly be.   
Then he sees it and he remembers that he does have a weapon and a dead friend to protect. However, he is sure that he the knife he has and even the pistol he has left inside of the shack probably cannot save him right now.   
The thing he finds himself gazing upon, is tall, its face is as pale as the bone and horned. It stands on two legs but the resemblance to human makes its appearance even less familiar. Its body seems to be made of wet wood and partially covered with moss, although, Timo pays the majority of his attention to exactly three most problematic issues: the size of the creature, the length of the creature’s arms and the fact that he has no idea what it is. The last is important because the knowledge of the origin of something gives the power over it. But Finland is clueless now, he would guess but guessing is too little. Nevertheless, he will try it if forced to.   
But the creature does not come closer. It remains near, not moving. Its eyes are burning through the mist and right into the Finland’s soul. Or souls. He’s not sure at this point, even if he wears the cross on his chest.   
He hasn’t noticed when he has slightly moved to bar the way straight to the entrance of shack. He’s done it, he didn’t know when, thought. After all, even if he doesn’t remember anymore, he feels it deep in his bones and under his skin that the guarding is the core of his self. And so he guards.  
But the thing that he does notice it’s that the song of this land is no longer overpowering and overwhelming. He hears it, of course, but he doesn’t focus on it. All in all, there are more absorbing problems at the moment.   
The creature remains still. The intensity of its gaze fades as if it is slowly loosing the interest. Maybe the powerful spirit of the forest doesn’t see much danger in some small, foreign, dirty and desperate thing from the north.   
Everything is like frozen in time when Timo hears the voice last time he heard as a hoarse voice:  
“Finland?!”  
The Finn looks back maybe for a split second (a move he regrets deeply) and it is enough for the horned creature to disappear.   
He comes back inside, his legs shaky, his head dizzy, his face sheet-white. Bernhard looks awful but very alive and Timo cannot hold a smile that curves his lips for the first time this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thery weren't always as peaceful as they are now. And here they are still young and stupid. Also Finland has more problems with himself than he used to have.   
> I guess it turned out pretty dark in some parts. However, once again, thank you for reading and see you in the last chapter!


	5. Backstage conversation II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first and the last time Finland dies, also some explanations of his previous decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, this story is directly connected with the first one and it's its continuation so I advice checking out "Backstage conversation I" firstly.   
> This part is less angsty, despite the theme, so enjoy!

He clearly remembers the first time it happened, naturally, it was quite an event for him. However, at first he was not aware what had just actually taken place.   
There he was, wet and laying on the shore, the sun shining directly into his eyes. The air smelled of autumn – there was this slight hint of upcoming cold the boy could easily sense. It bothered him for some unnamed reason.   
It took him a while, his mind was still a little bit fuzzy. He sat, looked at the birches, all in gorgeous gold and yellow. He saw them all reflecting in the surface of the like, alongside with bluish-grey clouds.  
“If I blinked,” he thought to himself “it must have been a very long blink.” Because he was pretty sure that the last time he checked it was the beginning of the summer. How and when had he lost the whole season? Not that the summer usually lasts that long but missing these maybe two sunny days in the year was a remarkably sad occurrence.   
He caught himself looking at his trousers, they became slightly greenish, smelled of fish, rotten plants and mud, there was also a hole in the material Toivo didn’t remember seeing before. And he should have as it was quite hard to miss – he could put a whole hand in it. Minding, the said hand wasn’t very big as he was still a child. But he did like seeing his hands, having them was still kind of a novelty to him in a way.   
The last thing he remembered were the bubbles and the sun shining through the water. He mused on it for a while. His mind still seemed to function almost painfully slow. Meanwhile the birches’ leaves were slowly, gracefully falling onto the ground.   
And that it hit him.   
“I died a human death!” he exclaimed, feeling more surprised and amused than frightened. For now, at least.  
  
When he lives, he never recollects the time when he is not alive. As the experience and self-awareness are what partially builds the character: he is not entirely the same person in both of those situations.   
There is always a silent river of Tuoni and a significantly grumpy woman who guides the souls to the other side. There used to be other people but it became rare as time went by.   
He and the boat lady have already spoken on an almost every possible topic, sometimes it wasn’t the best idea but the past cannot be changed. However, there is a question the woman asked only once and Finland is sure that she did it far too late than she had wanted it in the first place.   
“Tell me,” she said firmly “why do you do this? I don’t think that you enjoy my company so much that you wish to come back here one time after another. Wouldn’t it be better for you to be just whatever you are, than to walk all around in this breakable body of yours?”   
She sounded a little bit provocative and looked him directly in the eyes. He didn’t seem to be affected by this and smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  
“Whisper in the wind, song in the air, eyes in the darkness?”  
“I would definitely not like to see your eyes in the darkness,” she responded.  
“ I would also not!” he nodded, the smile still present on his face. “Besides, they were not exactly visible, you know…” Maybe he wanted to explain further but he didn’t and the woman got a little bit impatient.  
“So, what’s the answer?”  
Up to this point there was something openly joyful about his behavior. Now she could easily notice it fading, leaving some sort of melancholia.  
‘’Well…” She imagined he was choosing his words unnaturally carefully at this moment. “You are the guide and the guide to the land of Tuonela, haven’t you ever just thought how is to, well, die yourself?”  
She gave an answer without any hesitation, straight and clear as always:  
“No.”  
She couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy the glimpse of the lost and confused look she saw in his eyes. As these of the dead person are not that easy to read, she took some pride in her observations. Years of practice.  
“It is hard to understand somebody without jumping into their shoes sometimes…”  
“It’s not my obligation to understand anybody,” she cut him off immediately. She wanted to think that Finland used to be way easier to talk to when he was younger but that wasn’t not true. He had already made his weird decision when she met him so there was no salvation for him.  
“So, well, I felt like mine is,” he just finished. “I couldn’t be just an observer, I think.”  
“Did it work?”  
“To understand the people? Yes, I think.” He meant that. He honestly meant that and speaking about it with this woman made him even more sure.  
As well as the lack of understanding he could observe on her face. Even, if both the question and the answer happened years ago, Finland bears them in his mind every times he speaks with the boat maid.  
  
He will probably forget the latest time it has happened. It is always like this when one gets used to something. But for now he doesn’t need to remember as he lives this moment and enjoys every little part of it.   
To be alive again always feels like to emerge from the deep, cold water. There is a moment of genuine euphoria when he breaths once again and his heart beats like a caged bird. Although he embraces the idea of freedom, he would prefer the latter organ not to leave his chest so he is quite glad that this state doesn’t last too long.   
He hears the radion playing, smells the coffee and opens his eyes just to see a very calm, silent Swede sitting on a garden chair and reading a book with a quite concerned look on his face.   
“Exactly as I suspected”, he says enigmatically.  
Finland notices that his own voice sounds almost foreign to his ears right now. It happens sometimes in moments like this.   
“The butler is the killer or something?” He tries to joke.  
“No.” Sweden carefully puts a bookmark into a volume and closes it afterward. He adjusts the glasses on his nose to look at Finland. “That you’ll be back as soon as I’ll make coffee.” There is a sparkle of humor in his eyes but he looks tired and Timo can hear some awfully badly hidden worry in his voice.  
Finland discovers that laughing hurts for some reason. He probably makes a face because out of the sudden Bernhard looks even more concerned.  
“How do you feel?” He keeps the book on his lap, his long, thin fingers roaming the edge of the volume.  
“Well, not that bad for a dead man.” He scratches his chest, it’s sensitive and he’s quite sure there is an irregularity which wasn’t here before. “What happened?”  
“You had a log in your chest.” Sweden finally puts the book away.  
“A log?”  
Bernhard shrugs his shoulders a little bit.  
“Maybe a big branch,” he corrects himself, Finland notices that Sweden tries to sound lighthearted but as this is not a natural thing for him – he fails miserably. However, Timo will give the credit for the effort where the credit is due.  
“Maybe a whole tree?” he wonders aloud.  
Sweden takes the chair and the coffee and sits closer, right next to the bed where Finland is laying. He doesn’t like it, it makes him feel like a sick person.  
“Maybe.”  
“So it means that the wind was stronger than I thought.”  
“The tree fell down.” Finland feels the other’s hand closing on his own and all he wants to ask is: why did it take Berhnard so long to do this?  
“Yeah, I think. Or it attacked me and I lost, one of these two.”  
“I was too late. I cut it off, I had to remove the rest… I suppose I’ve done it but if you feel any ache…”  
“Yeah?”  
“…it means either a splinter was left or it is your undying love for me.” He says it all with such a solemn face that Finland is left speechless and delighted.  
“Could it be both?”  
“Hm.”  
“I’m kind of angry because I liked this raincoat and it probably needs to be thrown away right now…”  
“Already done that.”  
Finland pauses for a second.  
“You didn’t give me any time to say goodbye…!”  
Sweden just watches, his one hand still closed on Timo’s, the other holding the cup. Berhnard takes a long sip from it.  
“It needed to be done.”  
Timo snorts meaningfully and falls silent for a while. The sunlight coming through the window is yellow and paints the whole scene in warm colours.  
“Thank you,” he says finally. “And sorry for ruining the vacation, how many days do we have left?”  
“Three. No problem, just… Try to avoid getting impaled next time, hm?”  
“Well, it wasn’t exactly on purpose, if we, uh, talk about that but I can do what I can, I guess.” It is a very long way to say “yes”. However, Finland was fully aware that there is a high possibility of him not fulfilling his promise. On the other hand, Sweden knew him well enough to have a similar expectations. After all, he remembers that the Finn sometimes does things which are at least questionable and it is not an easy-changeable custom.  
“Have I told you about that time when I found my name on the marking tree and met the neighbor who attended the funeral before?” Timo asks.  
“Yes.”  
“She thought I came to haunt her because she took my knife.”  
“I remember. I’ve taken your knife this time. It’s there.” Sweden nods in the direction where the has put the object of Timo’s uncanny affection.  
“You never forget about anything.” He smiles. Bernhard seems to be content with his remembering skills, as far as Timo can read it from the curve of the other’s mouth. He will not say it aloud but he is glad beyond measure that he is not alone at this moment. “But, you know, I always get this feeling that I’ve forgotten about something.’’  
Sweden peeks at him, his glasses catch some of the sunlight and there appears a brief flash. Bernhard makes some noise in the back of his throat which Timo interprets as “go on”.  
“After, you know, like right now. I don’t know what would it be. But it is… well, maybe a little bit annoying.”  
“It’ll go away.”  
“Yeah, I guess. But it’s funny that it always happens…”  
Sweden seems to hesitate.  
“Wouldn’t call it that,” he decides, he drinks up the rest of the coffee and puts the cup on the bedside cabinet, right next to the lamp.  
“I should get up,” Timo decides out of sudden.  
“Or I could lay down beside you.”  
“Or you could lay down beside me,” he agrees.  
“But water and food first.” Sweden takes the cup and stands up. Timo watches him leave, feeling his hand suddenly empty and thinking once again that he’s glad that it ended up like this.  
The “funny feeling” eventually goes away and Finland brushes off the memory of the death. On the next day they go fishing, they drink beer sitting by the lake, they got bitten by a horde of mosquitoes and get in some petty, meaningless argument about the song on the radio. Times goes by and maybe sometimes, in the night, Timo wonders what happens with him in-between life and death, muses if the old myths are true. But he can only guess as the dead remain silent and Finland, on the other hand, tries to remain alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with writing Sweden and Finland like this.   
> The marking tree is the tree marked with the name and the date of the death of a person, it is located somewhere between their house and the burial place and it's purpose is to make the ghost realise they're dead and prevent the haunting. 
> 
> Congrats for everybody who got there with me, I wasn't sure I would manage to finish it. I haven't written any fanfiction in years, not to mention in English. Thank you for the nice words and the encouragement!

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, living people trying to get to the land of the Dead was a thing in Finnish folklore. No wonder the ferrywoman was so strict with Finland. Speaking of him, I was aiming for a slight after-death OOCness.  
> I hope I haven't entirely butchered Finnish myths and folklore.


End file.
